CHAPTER XXXII.—INTO THE VAULT

Verbeck and Muggs had taken many wild rides in the big roadster, but nothing that compared to this. On the boulevard, the street cleaners had removed most of the snow, but the slush had frozen, and the going was treacherous. The car skidded from side to side, at times almost turned end for end, lurched and swayed sickeningly.

Detective Riley gritted his teeth and clung to one end of the seat in which Verbeck crouched. Muggs bent forward, squinting his eyes and trying to get a clear view ahead. They turned corners and swept around curves at dangerous speed, sprang down hills as if the car was some wild thing running for life from a hereditary foe.

It was half past two o’clock in the morning, and few vehicles were abroad, a fact for which Muggs gave devout thanks. They reached the edge of the business district, yet he did not slacken the car’s speed. Detective Riley had said no word since the start—now he was the sleuth on the trail, the officer of the law ready to try conclusions with the criminal. Neither did Roger Verbeck speak, not even to shriek orders to Muggs, for Muggs did not need orders, and Verbeck was thinking of the humiliation in store for him unless the master criminal was caught.

Muggs dodged an owl car by less than a foot, and took a corner on two wheels. Riley would have been dashed from the machine had not Verbeck flung an arm around him. Down another hill they raced, and into a cross street, where the heavy traffic of the day had obliterated the most of the slush, and the going was safer.

They were within a few blocks of their destination now. Verbeck and Riley were both wondering if the sergeant had been able to get to another telephone and notify headquarters. The Black Star might have a chance of escape if the block was not surrounded.

And they were not certain that he had not committed his theft and escaped already. He had had plenty of time while they were following the dictagraph wire, especially since it was certain his plans had been made carefully. Would they arrive in time to find him at work? Or, would they find the door of the vault open and a fortune in jewels gone?

Riley bent over and screeched in Muggs’ ear:

“Stop that horn! And stop the machine at the corner this way!”

Muggs nodded that he understood. He drove around another corner, and swung the roadster to a stop. Riley sprang to the walk, Verbeck and Muggs following closely. They hurried around the corner and to the entrance of the big building.

Automatics and electric torches were held ready now. There was no watchman in the entrance, and they started to creep up the stairs to the second floor. And there, at the top of the marble steps, just in front of the heavy glass doors that opened into the establishment of Jones & Co., they found the watchman.

He was stretched on the floor, bound and gagged and with a black star on his forehead. Riley motioned for silence, and relieved the watchman of gag and ropes.

“He slipped up on me,” the man whispered. “He’s inside now.”

“Only one?”

“Just one man!” the watchman whispered. “He tapped me on the head and had me gagged before I knew what was happening. Then he bound me. I’m sure there was only one man. He unlocked the door with a key.”

“How long ago?”

“Half an hour or more.”

“Then he’s gone out some other way,” Riley whispered to the others. “He wouldn’t stay in there that long. What’s the matter with headquarters, I wonder? I don’t hear any siren. Here, you, watchman, go down and tell the men, when they come, to surround the block, and send a few in here. We’ll go on in.”

The watchman tottered to the top of the stairs and started down. Riley drew Verbeck and Muggs close to him.

“No lights until we’re sure where we stand,” he instructed. “He may be ready to shoot, if he’s still in there, and a light furnishes a swell target. There’ll be a faint light inside, reflected from the stairs. I know this place. This is the only entrance except a freight elevator at the rear. There are windows, of course, that open into the court. I’m afraid he’s gone that way! Ready? Come on, then, and keep your eyes open!”

Inch by inch Riley swung the glass door open, so as not to make any sound. Inch by inch they crept inside and closed the door again. Here the aisles were covered with thick carpets. An uncertain light came through the door and made the interior of the gem store a mass of shadows.

Before them was the general retail salesroom, with its rows of counters and show cases on either side, and its divans and chairs in the center. Slowly, carefully, holding weapons and torches ready, they crept from shadow to shadow, scarcely daring to breathe, fearing they would make a sound.

They soon were convinced nobody was in the salesroom. They came to the partition in the rear, and found the door partly open. Here they redoubled their caution. If the Black Star was present he was somewhere behind that partition.

Riley opened the door carefully, and they stepped inside. Here they found a dim light, too, coming in from the street. Here were tables where diamonds were displayed to purchasing merchants, sets of mirrors so an employee could see the entire interior at a glance, and, at the opposite end of the room, the door to the great vault of Jones & Co.—the vault that held always a fortune in jewels and was supposed to be impregnable.

They crouched—and looked. Verbeck drew in his breath sharply.

The door of the vault stood open.

In it, his back toward them, gloating over a handful of jewels, was—the Black Star!

As they watched, they heard him chuckle softly, saw him throw up his head—_and walk into the vault_!